


Stormy Nights and Drunken Confessions

by girl_next_door_writes



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:30:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22771690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl_next_door_writes/pseuds/girl_next_door_writes
Summary: When you are uncertain exactly what is real it can be a little difficult to take things at face value, especially drunk confessions.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Stormy Nights and Drunken Confessions

Leaning against the wall, his unfocused eyes stared through the dark window, into Gotham’s night. The rain was lashing down again, as if it was attempting to wash the whole damn place away, to make things clean again. Not that there was ever going to be enough water to clean up this scummy city. Smoke curled from his lips, creating haunting patterns in the stagnant air of the room. The bruises mapped out on his skin a litany of violence and abuse, yet his heart was still so pure, so hopeful that maybe, if he just got through this day, tomorrow could be better. 

Running his long, thin fingers through his lank hair, he found his thoughts returning once more to you. The strange friendship between you so heavy with possibility. It didn’t appear that you were using him for anything, at least nothing he could ascertain. Your smiles seemed genuine and it was you who had sort out his company. Perhaps it was pity. You were so kind and smart and funny and beautiful. His insecurity screamed within him that you could have anyone, so why the hell would you choose him? 

Stubbing out the butt of his cigarette, he took to chewing his fingernails as he listed all the ways in which he wasn’t good enough to earn the love of someone as brilliant as you. His heart sank with each fleeting self-criticism and his emaciated frame pushed off the wall and sank down onto the sofa. Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes, that clear voice in his head asking how anyone could love him, he didn’t even love himself.

His life seemed to be a catalogue of missed opportunities, almost as if he were always thirty minutes behind the rest of the world. His anxiety and insomnia mingled with his depression and the edges of reality blurred. You were probably his only friend and he was only sixty percent sure you existed. Well, that’s not true. He was certain you existed, you had smiled at him on the bus home on a Tuesday six months and three weeks ago, but the you who laughed at his jokes, the you who strolled down the dimly lit sidewalks when neither of you could sleep, the you who pulled him up to dance whenever you thought he looked sad, he wasn’t so sure that version of you was real. 

That version of you was the best part of him. When he was with you everything seemed easier, like everything made sense somehow, as if he had fallen back into sync with the rest of the world. The character he feared he had created of you, he was so in love with that ‘you’, but he could never act on it because what if you were a figment of his mental disorders? He was breaking his own heart, twisting himself in knots. 

There was a knock on the door, pulling him from his thoughts. With a frown, he got to his feet, pulling on a shirt and heading to investigate who his late-night visitor might be. Resting one hand against the doorframe, he pulled the door open and his frown quickly dissipated as he saw you standing there, dripping on the hallway floor. 

His mind raced, you seemed so real but there was still doubt. “Hi Arthur. Hi crazy girl who brings muffins.” Mr Watkins who lived across the hall shuffled past and let himself into his apartment. Arthur's eyes widened. If Mr Watkins could see you, had acknowledged you, then you must exist, and you were really standing here at his door at almost midnight after trekking through the storm. Opening his door wider, he silently invited you in, his heart pounding so hard he worried you could hear every beat. 

“Hi.” You said eventually after slipping your damp coat off and turning to look at him with an air of uncertainty. There was obviously something on your mind and he wasn’t sure if he should push you to talk about it or just wait for you to tell him. He noticed you were swaying slightly, your eyes bright but a little unfocused and he realised you must have been drinking. You were a little drunk and you showed up at his door? Why would you do that? 

“Hi.” His voice was so soft, barely there as the single word seemed to hang in the air mingling with the haze of cigarette smoke.

“I- We need to talk.” Your brow was furrowed, and you couldn’t seem to look directly at him. Your expression indicated that you were trying to find the right words and his heart sank. This was it. This was the part where you told him you didn’t want to see him anymore, that he was a freak, a loser, and you had decided you didn’t want to waste your time on him. He clasped his hands together in front of him, digging his fingers into the back of his hand, the pain reminding him that this interaction was real, it was actually happening.

Finally, you seemed to have settled on an opening line and you took a deep breath. “Do you like me, Arthur?” The question came completely out of left field for him and his eyebrows raised as his eyes widened. What sort of a question was that? Was this some form of torment he had never imagined would come from you? He stumbled over his words for a moment, stopping completely when he saw your shoulders slump and a resigned look settle on your face. “That’s what I thought. Well, fuck it, I’m gonna say this anyway because I can’t get over you if I’m still carrying all this around inside.” 

You stood up straighter, a drunk confidence seemingly filling you as Arthur's mind raced to catch up with the conversation. Get over him? What did..?

“I love you, Arthur Fleck. I am so in love with you. When something good happens to me, you’re the person I wanna tell. When something shitty happens, you’re the person I want to spend time with to cheer me up. I think about you a lot, like a good solid 95% of my day, and that makes everything seem a little better. I know you don’t feel the same and I’m not asking you too, I just… I figured either I tell you or I walk away and I’m not sure I can walk away from you. So here I am, telling you this, and now you’re gonna push me away and not want to hang out anymore and I’m gonna have to walk away, which sucks, because the best part of my day is seeing you. And that’s it. That was what I wanted to say.”

There was an awkward silence as he stood there just staring at you in total shock. You had just put into words his own thoughts and feelings about you and he needed to know this was real. Turning away from you, he headed to the door. Opening it, Arthur crossed the hallway quickly and rapped on Mr Watkins door.

“Arthur? Everything okay?” The elderly man asked nervously when he saw the slightly manic look in the young man’s eyes, then he glanced over to you stood in Arthur's doorway.

“I just have a quick question. This is gonna sound a little crazy but… is there someone in my apartment?” Arthur looked at his neighbor almost pleadingly.

“Just the muffin girl as far as I can see.” He replied hesitantly, unsure quite what all this was about. 

“Thank you, Mr Watkins.” Arthur let out a sigh of relief before turning back to the girl propping herself up against his doorframe. Taking two large steps, he was in front of you, swiftly closing the distance. His hands came up to cup your face, the softness of your skin sending a shiver through him. He was really touching you. You were just as he had imagined, and you were here to tell him you love him. Arthur almost laughed with happiness, instead he pressed his lips to yours. 

“The whole town’s full of crazies.” Mr Watkins muttered as he closed his door, shaking his head. 

Breaking the tender kiss, Arthur gazed into your eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You want to stay over? You can have the bed and I’ll take the sofa. I’ll make you breakfast in the morning and then we can talk.” His heart was pounding and although he wanted to spend the whole night wrapped up in your arms, he knew you’d had a little too much dutch courage this evening. He didn’t want to take advantage. For now, as he led you back into his apartment, all he needed was the knowledge that you love him just as he loved you.


End file.
